


I Live To Breathe You In Again (Just Not Here)

by WeCouldPretend



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Romans | Arthurian Romances - Chrétien de Troyes
Genre: Also Lancelot, Birthday Sex, Child Abuse, Feels, Galahad's a pushover, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Elaine of Corbenic, Mordred has a huge dragon tattoo, Mordred is a sass master extrodinare, Morgan's A+ parenting, PWP, Reincarnation AU, Smut, Tattoo, Topping from the Bottom, Tristan saw this coming, Wingman Percival, but only kinda, car jacking, it's just mostly smut, long lost lovers, mentions of King Arthur, strip clubs, which is to say, wingman Tristan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCouldPretend/pseuds/WeCouldPretend
Summary: Galahad's eighteenth birthday has just rolled around and his friends have a surprise in store for him. Strip clubs, emotions and a happy reunion ensue. This is a Reincarnation AU, where all of our favorite knights are popping back up on the good ole' cycle of reincarnation and remembering who they used to be along the way.





	I Live To Breathe You In Again (Just Not Here)

 

"Come on! Watch your step Galahad, ok, to the left, no your other left, OK!" Tristan whipped the blindfold off of Galahad's head, uncovering his eyes. He had heard the horrible music of course, but he had assumed that the college student was just taking him to a club for his birthday. What he saw... Well... He hadn't been wrong.

"Tristan, we're in a strip club. What the hell?" Galahad spat, giving him his best utterly disgusted and bewildered look, rounding on both Tristan and Percival, both of whom were at least a year older than him. 

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Gallie!" Tristan smirked, handing him a wad of dollar bills. "Go have fun." 

Galahad stared at him as if he were made of sardines and moldy socks. It was easy enough for him to say, Tristan was easily more attractive than most of the people here, including the strippers. Percival, his sweet-yet-playboy wingman was easily a close second, balancing out Tristan's sea blue eyes and natural platinum blond spikes with dark brown waves and warm eyes. Anywhere they went, everyone just melted. Galahad on the other hand, was a senior in highschool, still awkward and gangly with ruffled golden hair and his father's storm grey eyes, something that made him look far older than his current 18 years. They showed who he really was, unlike the rest of his body, which was still filling out. 

He stood there awkwardly for another minute, trying to figure out what to do with himself. He had no idea what was going on, or what he was supposed to do, or even how to get out. They had pulled him into the center of the place, until he didn't know where anything was. Finally, he gave up and headed in the same direction they had, trying to at least find a bar. Maybe the bartender could help,

Sighing slightly, Galahad located the bar and slid onto a stool. He needed to get the bartender's attention, but unfortunately, the man was busy. 

He slumped slightly onto his elbows, leaning them on the bar as well. He would have stayed exactly like that had a silky voice not whispered into his ear.

"You look rather lost, and rather alone."

Galahad jumped violently, whirling in his seat to find the source of the voice. He found a man there, standing face to face with him. This man...He was entrancing. Galahad couldn't help but stare into his neon green eyes, even as the darkened club lights flashed. The next thing that was clearly apparent about his fantastic body was the massive dragon tattoo that wrapped itself around his torso, it's spade-like tail resting at his hip and it's head wrapping around to rest on his opposite shoulder-blade, it's wings fanning out across his back. 

"See something you like?" The man purred, casually pulling him from his stool and leading him through the swirling masses of people. Galahad could not find the words or the will to protest, as if he had been put under some sort of spell. 

It was only when he was shoved down into a chair that he once again found his voice. "Wha-Who are you!?" He stammered, trying to look past the neon eyes and the insanely fit body to the person underneath. The person he found there held a sort of dark humor about him, and arrogance too, immense amounts of arrogance. There was something more under there... Something...

"I have gone by many names, but my favorite is Dragon Tamer. Now, relax. I'll take care of the rest." The man smiled, his smile flashing in the dim light. 

The memory hit him like a bullet, shocking him utterly and causing a physical recoil to run through Galahad's spine. He saw the same man in his private chambers in Camelot. He remembered the feeling of that sly smirk against his shoulder, that slim body in his arms, that arrogant darkness invading every inch of him. He remembered giving every ounce of himself to this man, and getting every single drop of him in return. He knew this Dragon. This one was his. 

Slowly he looked up, staring at the man with amazement in his eyes. "That's not your name. I know your name. Mordred. I know your name, and your face, I know your eyes are actually the color of heather in the summer under those contacts." Galahad breathed, amazement and awe in every word. 

He watched as Mordred's expression flicked from furious to realization to joy. Galahad opened his arms to his lost dragon, pulling them together, tightly pressing his Pendragon to his chest. 

"Galahad?"

"Yes?" 

"Tristan sent me over here."

"Remind me to thank him when we leave." Galahad laughed, letting Mordred loose, to allow him to pull back far enough to kiss him deeply. Mordred was a violent as ever with his lips, demanding and harsh, plundering his mouth as if he'd be barred entrance the next time he tried it. 

"I can't believe I found you here...Here of all places..." Mordred laughed, cupping Galahad's face in his palm, trying to press his image into his mind's eye.

"Well it is my birthday, and this is a wonderful present you've given me, darling." Galahad grinned at him, a wolfish expression, something that neither of them would have thought was possible ten minutes ago. 

"Is that so?" Mordred responded with a predatory expression of his own, licking his lips before he bent to take control of Galahad's mouth again. "Because I think we can do better than that after all these years, I’ve missed a lot of birthdays." Mordred hissed, settling himself on Galahad's lap. The Grail Knight response was little more than a strained gasp. Then he was reaching up again, pulling Mordred flush, wrapping one hand around his waist and threading the other through his hair.

Mordred couldn't believe his luck. He had found his one and only love after centuries and lifetimes of being apart and the feeling was incredible. He did this for a living, but he had never felt so very alive in this place before. Every flashing light seemed blurred, turning into streaks of color around them. God he missed how Galahad could turn him into an utter wreck in a matter of seconds, the way he spread those calloused hands across his back. In all his lives, he had never tasted anything as heady as Galahad's mouth or been so able to lose himself with another being. When the hand resting on his back suddenly tensed, digging nails into his back, Mordred couldn't hold back the little groan of appreciation that slipped out of his mouth. 

Galahad instantly loosened his hand, pulling the one in Mordred's hair out and pulling away gently. 

"We cannot do this here. I can't. I have missed you too much to allow it. We need to go."

"I agree. But, I would appreciate being able to put on a decent amount of clothing before we go out." Mordred grinned, winding his arms around Galahad's neck as if to show off just  how little he was wearing.

Galahad rolled his eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Do you have a car?" Galahad asked, absently running his fingertips along Mordred's back as they talked, relishing the feeling of having him back after so long apart.

"No, I'm not old enough. Sorry."

"What?! How old are you this time?"

"I'm seventeen"

"It's not lega-" Galahad was cut off by a hand clapped over his mouth.

"I don't really care. I ran away from Morgan. I took what I could get." Mordred hissed, eyes narrowing with caution. "More later. Let's go."

"I'll steal Tristan's car. It isn't the first time I've done it and I doubt it will be the last." Galahad grimaced, glancing towards the way he had seen his friends go.

"Perfect." Mordred sighed and made as if to stand.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Galahad growled, pulling his Knight closer and preventing him from leaving.

"I," Mordred emphasized the word with a pointed look, "am going to go put on more clothes. You are going to go jack Tristan's car. it is the green thunderbird. I know it. Just go, I'll catch you up." Mordred said lazily, as if it were normal for him to know that.

Galahad gave him an odd look before he protested. "I don't want to leave you, not now that I've just found you"

Mordred sighed theatrically, leaning forward to give Galahad a short kiss. "You won't be losing me, I’m like a bad penny, I keep turning up." He laughed, trying to smooth out the crease in Galahad's forehead by running his thumb over it.

"Fine. You have five minutes. Is that clear, my little dragon? " Galahad asked, resting his hand on top of the dragon's head. With that, he pulled his arms back and let Mordred free. Mordred smirked cheerfully,calling a quick 'look behind you as he slithered away into the crowd. 

Galahad turned around, and found himself staring at an 'exit' sign. He grinned massively and made to leave.

Galahad felt as if he were on top of the world as he strode out of the place, once again the confident young man he had been. No more of that shy person who had come in. He quickly went over to Tristan's car and jimmied the lock, sliding a bit of wire through the window to unlock it before slipping it under the chase and sticking it to the magnet he had hidden there. He smiled as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Unlocking the rest of the doors and pulling the spare key out of the console, he started the car and turned on the radio. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Mordred sashayed into the dressing room, weaving in and out of people. He gave his small favors, a small touch here, a wink there, it was his court after all, he had to maintain control. And he did, until he got into the dressing room. Frantically unlocking his locker, he began scrambling into his street clothes. 

"What's up with you Mal? Got a hot date or something?" Lacey asked, laughing from across the room. Mordred snorted, the statement couldn't have been more true. 

"Something like that, yeah." Mordred replied, pulling on a pair of skintight jeans and tugging his jacket on before fleeing the room. 

"Have fun!" Lacey called just as he walked out.  

When Mordred got to the parking lot, he found the car on and Galahad listening to something on the radio. 

Mordred knocked on the window, smiling when Galahad rolled it down. 

"How'd I do on time?" Mordred asked, folding his arms across the window sill and leaning down so they were level. 

"Four minutes." Galahad grinned, looking at the time in the car. "I must say, you're getting sloppy. Time was, you'd have been out here in your armor with Clarent strapped to your side." 

"Yeah well, times have changed, grandpa, the pants are a lot harder to get into." Mordred griped, coming around the car as Galahad unlocked it. The golden haired boy couldn't help but laugh in delight as Mordred climbed in and dropped his bag at his feet. As soon as they had pulled out, Mordred claimed Galahad's free hand, holding it in his own. 

"You know, I could say the same thing about you. I've never seen the ever-brave Galahad look so very terrified. And of what? A whole bunch of mostly naked people. It's a good thing you're so cute, you know."

Mordred looked at him fondly, just adoring that little smile that Galahad always got when he received high praise. He'd missed that, he'd missed so much about Galahad. He recalled all of his tenderness, his warmth, the way his hair looked plastered to his forehead in the moonlight, how perfectly he handled diplomatic missions. So much he'd wanted for so long, and now here he was. A vision of perfection. 

"Hey, at least I kept my clothes on. Den of iniquity and all." Galahad smirked, rubbing his thumb across Mordred's knuckles.

"Still christian then?" Mordred asked, looking him over again. 

"Yup. Still a heretic and a blasphemer?"

"What do you think?" Mordred snickered, casting Galahad a smug look. 

"Of course. What else did I expect." Galahad mock-groaned, pulling into his driveway.  

Galahad turned off the car, listening to the hum of the engine die away as they sat with their hands laced together. He looked at those hands, shaped like puzzle pieces that fit without a flaw. 

"On three?" Mordred asked, looking at Galahad with his poison green eyes. It was a familiar sentiment between the two, something they had used on the battlefield, in the court and in private. It was normal and comforting for them both. Galahad nodded happily, starting them off with a quick "One,"

"Two," Mordred exhaled in a measured breath as both undid their seatbelts and reached for the door handles. 

"Three!" Galahad cried, and both sprang from their seats, scrambling from the car and sprinting around the car with their hands reaching for the other's across the hood. Their hands linked quickly once they rejoined, but they did not pause. They ran on, straight towards the door. The pair paused, just long enough for Galahad to unlock the door and let them inside. Both slid into the dark house without a sound, slamming the door behind them and leaning against it heavily. 

"Just like old times, huh?" Galahad joked, toeing off his tennis shoes and kicking them to the corner of the little mat they were standing on. 

"Don't you know it!" Mordred panted, copying Galahad's actions and following him inside.

"So, who's here with you?" Mordred asked casually, trailing after Galahad as he walked into the kitchen. 

"Just my Mom and I, and half the time it's just me anyhow." Galahad shrugged, handing Mordred a glass of water as he sat in one of the stools around the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

"She's still a bit off then?" Mordred asked, not unkindly. It had been the same back then too. 

"Yeah, schizophrenia. The memories didn't take too well." Galahad explained, telling Mordred about how his mom was currently on a retreat and that the house would be theirs for the week. At this, Mordred found the gall to look indecently happy. 

"No sign of your father then? Or mine?" Mordred asked, half hopeful, half longing. 

"None, yet. I'm sure they'll be along soon enough." Galahad consoled him gently and reached across the table to take his hand again. Mordred grasped it tightly, blessing this centuries current customs, that he could actually have an open relationship with his love, and not be killed for it.  

"What about you?" Galahad asked, more than curious about Mordred's situation.

"Well, mother's the same as ever, ran away two years ago when the abuse and the constant paramours got to me. Same as always. Still in school though, but she never even knew which high school I went to, so I still get to go. Which is nice, but I don't do friends." Mordred wrinkled his nose at the idea, and getting a light laugh for his joke. They both knew that Mordred was in it for the grades, bastard probably had over a four-point. 

 

"That's good. Are you feeling alright?" Galahad asked, noting the sudden change in his companion's posture and the little glistening tears in the corners of his eyes. 

"It's a lot to absorb," Mordred explained, keeping Galahad's hand as the Grail Knight came around the island to cradle him in his arms. 

"Things will be better now, I promise. I've got you now, don't worry." Galahad tried to be reassuring, pulling Mordred around to look at him. 

"They always are when you're around." Mordred muttered, wrapping his fingers into the front of Galahad's shirt. He laid his head down against the Grail Knight's chest and took a few calming breaths, just listening to Galahad's heart beat as he ran his hands along Mordred's back. Galahad's attention to detail faltered as he pressed his forehead against the crown of Mordred's head. He didn't quite realize that he was getting dangerously close to the patch of bare skin at the small of Mordred's back, nor did he realize that the closer he got the farther he drove out Mordred's calm. 

"I'm so-" Galahad began, trying to apologize. Before he got there, he found himself being yanked down by the boy on the stool who crushed their lips together with sudden force. He responded as quickly as he could, instantly adjusting to the feeling of his smooth, slightly glossed lips sliding across his before Mordred deepened the kiss. Suddenly, Mordred was everywhere. He surrounded Galahad, engulfed him in a burning fire that was entirely their own. Galahad started to pull back and Mordred whimpered weakly, pressing into Galahad as he was pulled off the stool.  One of Galahad's arms reached up and tugged on the collar of his shirt, leading him away from the kitchen and towards his room. Without breaking their kiss or halting their movement, Mordred wormed his hands into Galahad shirt and pulled it off, popping several of the buttons off in his efforts to get to Galahad faster. 

He was exactly as Mordred remembered, all muscle and smooth skin and perfection. And when those perfect hands that had been on his lower back dipped further down, and slipped them into his waistline, he was suddenly the one pushing them faster. 

Galahad chuckled slightly and tugged Mordred up the stairs to his room. The place was a wreck. Every single piece of clothing he owned was scattered across the floor and his big queen-sized bed, as Tristan had insisted on finding him exactly what he needed to wear for tonight. Galahad hardly cared now. He couldn’t care less if he'd had the cleanest room in the house or the dirtiest. What really mattered was Mordred's lithe body pressed against his and forcing him back onto the bed. Not that he minded in the slightest, he didn't. However, he needed to feel Mordred again. Hold him and keep him safe and examine every inch of his body again. Their brief moment together hadn't allowed for very much of that at all, and he was dying to get another look and that fantastic Dragon on his chest, to maybe even find out where the tail was. 

Just as they were about to collapse onto the bed together, Galahad reversed their positions and pulled Mordred down onto the bed beneath him. The flash of wild, confused pleasure that ran across Mordred's features was one of the most beautiful things that Galahad had ever seen. It only got better when He shoved his hands up under Mordred's shirt and slid them along his ribs. This left a panting Mordred with his shirt hiked up to his neck, staring at him like he was made of gold. 

Unable to take it anymore, Galahad ripped the shirts off, taking care to keep Mordred's face out of harm's way as he pulled. Finally, Galahad had access to that intricate tattoo and he wasted no time in kissing his way across his chest to follow the pattern of the blackish blue ink on his soon to be lover's skin. Beneath him, Mordred moaned lowly and squirmed, helpless under Galahad's clever lips.

Galahad indulged himself, running hands and lips and teeth across every plane and angle of Mordred's torso, drawing the most beautiful noises from his beloved. He paid special attention to all the sweet spots he knew would have Mordred singing out sweetly again. By the time Galahad managed to make his way back up to Mordred's mouth, the boy beneath him had fallen apart completely. Bites littered his body, and red crescents from where he'd grabbed just a little too hard.

"Galahad, quit fucking with me." Mordred hissed, roughly grabbing Galahad by the hair and dragging him down into a passionate kiss. 

"But I've not even started yet, darling" Galahad grinned wickedly, nipping at Mordred's ear before descending along his ribs to rest at the point where the waist on his pants started. Without hesitation, Galahad carefully unbuttoned them and then proceed to shuffle them down his legs. Fucking skinny jeans couldn't just give him what he wanted, no way he be defeated by an article of clothing. 

A gasp burst from Mordred as his pants were drawn away from his hips and down to his ankles. Galahad responded accordingly after such a loud display of need and ran his fingers up along the length of Mordred's leg, coming to rest at his hip. Only then did he lean down to give rest to the grabbing hands that had been dancing across his chest.

Mordred wrapped his hands around Galahad's neck and pressed them both close together, just so he could show him how ready he was for this to start. Galahad only groaned and kissed him harder.

A sudden thought occurred to Galahad, just as he was about to make a go for the bottle of vaseline in the drawer of his nightstand. "Mordred, are you clean?" He asked, looking down at the flushed and panting knight beneath him.

"Yes. Yes. Promise." Mordred gasped,"Waited." He huffed, trying to pull Galahad back to him.

"What do you mean?" The grail knight asked, confused by the sentiment.

"I'm a virgin. Waited for you, didn’t want anyone else," Mordred managed, struggling to get the words out as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Oh! I didn’t realize..." Galahad flushed brightly at that, not needing to inform Mordred of his own status. Mordred knew that Galahad didn't even think about having sex outside of with him. He tried to distract himself temporarily by fetching the bottle from his dresser drawer. It wasn’t intended for this, it’d do for the night.

“And you are, as ever, the blushing virgin.” Mordred smirked, calling back all that Galahad had tried to hide. He felt a spark of annoyance blossom in his heart, for the horrible teasing that they both knew wasn’t necessary. 

“Shut up, Mordred.” Galahad intoned, trying to sound stern as Mordred sat up and shoved Galahad’s pants down unceremoniously. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make me.” Mordred sassed, enjoying the snap that ran through Galahad at the challenge. The elder boy shoved Mordred down onto the bed, doing his best to push all of his clothes off as he did so, to make sure nothing got too dirty, and pinned Mordred down beneath his weight. Galahad possessed his lips, thoroughly claiming them as he worked both of their boxers off. He felt particularly triumphant when Mordred actually whimpered as he pressed them together fully for the first time in lifetimes. 

Galahad knew better than to allow that moment to last any longer. If they stayed the way they were for any longer, that’s how they’d finish. Galahad had no desire to lose their first time together like that. Not after so long. He began trailing kisses lower, seeking to distract Mordred from the pain they both knew was approaching. Galahad sucked on the point where the tattoo ended, in the hollow of his hip, before teasingly passing over what Mordred wanted most to press marks into his inner thighs.

“Fuck! Your mouth!” Mordred hissed, squirming underneath Galahad as he refused to do what Mordred wanted and teased him mercilessly.

Galahad far from missed the comment, and smirked up at Mordred from between his legs. “As you wish, darling. All you needed to do was ask.” And with that, Galahad did just as Mordred had requested, enjoying the positively filthy sounds issuing from his lover’s mouth. With Mordred sufficiently distracted, Galahad shuffled around to put a healthy dose of vaseline on his fingers before pressing one finger into Mordred.

“Finally!” Mordred groaned, drawing a little chuckle from Galahad who nonetheless continued with what he was doing. That in and of itself reduced Mordred back to an incoherent pile of mush as Galahad worked another finger inside. He began to stretch Mordred out, preparing him for the third finger that followed shortly afterwards. Galahad was shocked when it took the Usurper less than a minute to adjust before he began to push back against Galahad’s fingers. In response, Galahad crooked his fingers in just the right way to hit Mordred’s nerve cluster. 

“Oh Goddess yes!” Mordred choked out, pulling Galahad’s mouth up and away so he could kiss him as hard as possible before growling “So help me, Du Lac, get in me now or...”

“Or what, Little Dragon?” Galahad purred, jaw a bit sore from it’s previous engagement.

“I’ll finish this myself.”

“Oh I think not.” Galahad mused, almost nonchalant as he pulled his fingers free and quickly slicked himself up before pushing inside. Mordred all-but arched off the bed as the intrusion momentarily shocked him. Galahad froze, locking himself in place to give Mordred a chance to adjust. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Move, Gallie. Move now.” Mordred replied, shifting and locking his legs around Galahad’s waist. Galahad nodded, almost gently, before he stretched out on top of his love to plant careful, sweet kisses to Mordred’s lips. Galahad moved slowly, steadily building up to a faster rhythm as Mordred hissed and ordered him to go faster, harder, more. Galahad was happy to oblige, obeying his lover’s demands thoroughly, loving the way Mordred fell apart beneath him. It had been an age since he’d watched the breath hitch and stutter in his chest. Each curve of his body felt foreign under new hands, yet precisely the same in muscle memory. Galahad treasured every moment of uncontrolled motion, every twitch and shudder felt like a gift as Mordred chased his release. The Usurper met his thrusts, each one matched by his own as Galahad’s grip on his hips turned bruising. Not a moment later, he felt Mordred tense around him.

“Gallie!” Mordred shrieked, reverting back to welsh as he finished abruptly over both of them. He panted, breath spent as Galahad gathered his lover into his arms, hugging him tightly as he came back to some semblance of coherency. 

“I swear to your God, if you don’t finish this I won’t forgive you.” Mordred hissed, still riding his own high as he dragged Galahad down into a ferocious kiss. Galahad groaned into the kiss as his own thrusts became fast and uncontrollable as he roared his lover’s name. 

For a few minutes, the pair could do nothing but lay there, tightly entwined and heedless of the mess they’d created on the duvet. Mordred whined wordlessly as Galahad pulled back and pillowed his head on his lover’s chest. 

“I love you, Galahad.” Mordred mumbled, kissing Galahad’s forehead softly as he carded his hands through the gold-spun hair made damp by sweat. 

“Love you too, Mordred.” Gallie replied, leaning himself up towards the youngest Pendragon just enough to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He dropped back down to listen to Mordred’s heartbeat for a moment, fast and vibrant as ever, before peeling them both apart and rolling off the bed. The sudden emptiness was expected, but not entirely welcome as Galahad went to get something to clean them up. It was a novel feeling, to be empty and just a bit cold yet entirely fulfilled. It was a feeling only Galahad had been able to achieve, even after fifteen hundred years of different partners. Galahad was home. 

Reassured by the memory, Mordred was content to snuggle down into his lover’s pillows to wait for him to return. It wasn’t a moment later that a warm hand pressed gently into the crook of his elbow in warning before an equally warm cloth skated across his skin. 

Thorough and gentle, Galahad cleaned up their mess as best as he could before tossing the washcloth into a laundry basket. Mordred’s eyes cracked open a half inch at the noise, a smirk forming as he muttered, “Nice shot. Now get into bed.”

“Then get off the blankets.” Galahad chuckled, offering Mordred a hand. The Usurper accepted, letting his partner pull him off the bed for half a moment while they crumpled back the covers and rolled under them together. 

Mordred settled against Galahad’s side, nuzzling his way into his favorite spot, using Galahad’s shoulder as a pillow and lacing his leg across Galahad’s. It was a reflex from the time four lifetimes ago, the last time they’d seen each other, when Mordred had managed to injure the knee in a bad fight and needed to have it at an angle to stave off the pain. Galahad ran a hand across the knee, marveling at its wholeness. 

“I’m fine, love, all bits accounted for.” Mordred sighed, plastering himself against the other in reassurance. 

“All of it this time?” Galahad asked, astonished. Mordred hadn’t had magic for an eon. Since Camelot. 

“Yes, Galahad, all of it.” Mordred entoned, power lacing through his voice as the light in the room flicked off. “Now go to sleep, please. I haven’t slept well since we last did this.”

Galahad complied, pressing a kiss to Mordred’s head. God only knew how long they’d have together this time,how much peace they would have before they were called into Albion’s service again. They would weather it together this time, hand in hand, with the family they’d found back when chivalry was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about doing another ending to this where I change up the order of things and maybe the sexuality of the characters a bit. We'll see how this one goes. As always, I'm on Tumblr @Knight-Of-the-Kitchen so don't be shy! I love freaking out about these two, and almost everyone else involved with King Arthur.


End file.
